


My Beating Heart

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Lords of Chaos (2018), Mayhem (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Usually, it was Pelle that couldn't sleep, tormented by a twisted combination of insomnia and nightmares that left him often retreating into the dark woods or gathering his paper and sketching some demented creature from the depths of his crazed mind.But this night, it was Øystein that couldn't fall asleep, and so he doomed to lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the crickets.
Relationships: Euronymous | Øystein Aarseth/Dead | Per Yngve Ohlin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	My Beating Heart

Usually, it was Pelle that couldn't sleep, tormented by a twisted combination of insomnia and nightmares that left him often retreating into the dark woods or gathering his paper and sketching some demented creature from the depths of his crazed mind. 

But this night, it was Øystein that couldn't fall asleep, and so he doomed to lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the crickets. It was hardly an enjoyable pass time by any stretch of imagination, but Øystein didn't want to get up. There was humanity within him whenever he was around Pelle, and he knew that the warmth and comfort of his body was enough to calm the mind of his lover, so he didn't dare move, barely breathed for fear of awakening him. 

If you were to have told Øystein just a few months ago that he would've been laying in bed with the lead vocalist of his band, and _purposefully,_ at that, he would've punched you and not wasted a moment on trying to make sense of the words given. But here, now, Øystein couldn't deny that this was the best he had ever felt, and life seemed to make a whole lot more sense now that he had Pelle by his side, as deranged and utterly bonkers he was. 

Øystein could freely admit that Pelle was incredibly attractive, both physically and mentally. There was something about Pelle that made Øystein just love him, without borders or limitations, but then he would have to stop, listen and reevaluate his priorities, since sleeping with your vocalist was certainly a dodgy move. Luckily, nobody seemed to have noticed, yet, but they really needed to be more careful. 

Because anybody could find out, and their lives would be ruined for sure. 

But at that moment, in the darkness that had always provided an escape for the two of them, those thoughts didn't dare enter Øystein's mind. 

Instead of dwell on that, Øystein wrapped his fingers around Pelle's hand, and held onto it tightly, as if afraid that the younger man would just disappear without a trace at any moment. Pelle certainly looked like he would disappear, but that would certainly pass. Looking dead was certainly not going to detract from their general image, but passing out on stage because Pelle was too emaciated to do anything certainly would. 

Thankfully, that hadn't happened, and Øystein was confident that it never would. 

Pressing Pelle's hand against his mouth, Øystein couldn't help but smile, and in a world of chaos and darkness which he thrived on without care, thank fate for at least giving him someone to hold onto in the years that would come. 

Øystein's eyes traveled toward Pelle's face, troubled even in the throes of deep sleep, and his hair, a bright gold that defied his dark soul

Nobody, least of all Øystein, could've predicted what sort of havoc that Pelle would reign upon them. Back when Øystein had first received the letter, and that disgusting (yet oddly entrancing) crucified rat, he had almost felt a strange kinship toward the young man, although Øystein would never admit it, and almost lashed out at Pelle during the first year or so that he had been part of this band. 

Luckily for everybody involved, Øystein had gotten himself sorted out, and this strange, almost twisted relationship, had been the best thing that had ever happened to either of them. 

And for two men like them, that was saying something. 

_Pelle....my lover...my own beating heart._

He leaned down, and smoothed some of the soft hair away from Pelle's face, just so he could see it a little better.

Øystein couldn't ever get enough of Pelle, and in the moments that he could, he savored the ability to just look at the younger man. Øystein smiled at the sight that awaited him - eyelashes fluttering over smooth, pale skin, lips parted and chest rising slowly with every uncertain breathe. Pale ribbons of hair were spread out on the pillow, still damp from their shower earlier. 

_A demon with the face of an angel._

How fucking ironic. 

Pelle frowned, and shifted slightly, letting out a barely audible mumble that couldn't be deciphered. Øystein kissed Pelle's hand, and his eyes reluctantly grazed the red and white scars that littered his lover's pale arm, from his uppermost wrist, down to his shoulder, covered by his shirt. Øystein scowled when he caught sight of a fresh cut, and then sighed. 

He hated feeling so powerless against whatever haunted Pelle's mind. 

_Pelle - Dead - my beautiful, twisted lover._

Øystein lay down, his lover's hand still clutched tightly within his own. 

The sun rose above the horizon, but yet, their combined darkness didn't retreat. 


End file.
